


lift up your skirts

by therentistoodamnhigh



Series: Jezebel [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Exhibitionism, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Feminization, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Knife Use, M/M, Mild Blood, Rape Aftermath, Seriously this is fucked up, henrik being ze gud doctah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18054287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentistoodamnhigh/pseuds/therentistoodamnhigh
Summary: Jack fucked Dark. Anti is livid and wants to teach Jack a lesson about whoring himself out to others.





	lift up your skirts

**Author's Note:**

> this is a sequel to my "whore of babylon" fic. it's chock full of squicky and potentially triggering subjects so please tread very carefully if you're sensitive to anything in the tags. take care of yourselves, guys
> 
> also this string of new content probably isn't gonna last much longer bc this is the end of my spring break, but i will write while my muse allows me to.

One moment Jack was walking to his kitchen, and then the next he was being slammed face-first into the wall, Anti growling in his ear.

“You smell like him,” came the angry, bass-boosted, and glitchy voice that belonged to Anti.

“What?” Jack said, still stunned from the impact while the fear rushed in.

“You smell like that two-faced raccoon,” Anti spat, and Jack could feel Anti’s nails digging into his skin through his shirt from the grip on his shoulder. “You fucked him, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack said, his heart beating rapidly, and he could see the edges of Anti’s form glitching harshly out of the corner of his eyes.

“Fucking _liar_ ,” he growled. “You let that monochromatic _moron_ stick his dick in you, and you begged for it like a fucking slut, didn’t you?”

“So what if I did? He was the one that was trying to get in my pants for like, four months!” Jack retorted.

“That’s not the _point_ ,” Anti hissed, voice glitching around the vowels. He pulled Jack away from the wall, only to shove him hard into a nearby table.

Jack let out a groan and tried to catch himself but ended up falling onto a chair that had only been partially pushed in, and then he tumbled to the floor, smacking his head on the tile floor. He gave a shout at the pain, and then suddenly Anti was kneeling on top of him with a knife pressed to his throat, knee on his abdomen and the top of a bare foot pressed right up against his crotch.

“The _point_ ,” Anti said with harsh emphasis, “is that _I’m_ the only one that’s allowed to touch you.”

_I didn’t know we were exclusive,_ Jack wanted to say, but he was too focused on breathing shallowly in order to avoid getting nicked.

“If you want to whore yourself out so badly,” Anti continued, jabbing the knife a little harder into Jack’s skin, “I’ll put you on public fucking display!”

Jack’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“You heard me.” Anti stood up too quickly, roughly hoisting Jack to his feet by the collar of his shirt. “I’m putting you on display,” he grinned, the edges of his voice glitching with manic glee. Anti let go of his shirt only to grab his wrist and drag him along.

In between the first and second step Jack took, the skin beneath Anti’s grip buzzed, and there was static in his lungs. Then he blinked, exhaled, and then he was breathing in oxygen and being shoved forcefully onto a bed he didn’t recognize.

Jack tried to sit up, but there was that layer of painfully prickling static that covered his skin if he sat up too far. He knew from experience that Anti would make it agonizing if Jack was too disobedient, and so he laid back down, heart pounding with fear.

Anti’s eyebrows were drawn down sharply, irritation written into every line of his posture, and he climbed up on the bed and proceeded to cut Jack’s clothes off while Jack did his utmost to stay very still.

Dark had practically spoiled him with his creepy gentleness, and now Jack was remembering with brutal clarity why it was a terrible idea to let his guard down around these monsters. Memories of every moment of terrified agony he’d spent beneath Anti’s merciless hand flickered through his head while the cold blade kissed his skin, leaving the occasional scratch that seeped little beads of blood.

When Jack was naked, Anti knelt over him, eyes black. “Since you want so badly to be a whore, let’s make you look like one.”

Jack’s mind wanted to fight, but instincts engrained into him bid him lie still and pliant as Anti forced him into a tight mini-skirt and thigh-high stockings with lace trim and flimsy high heels he’d surely trip in. Then Anti turned him over onto his stomach and manhandled him into a corset, one that left his nipples exposed, tying it so tightly Jack feared his ribs would break. The hair on his legs rubbed uncomfortably beneath the fabric of the stockings, and he didn’t know if not being shaved made the shame deeper than if he’d actually been shaved.

When Jack felt Anti’s weight leave the bed, he thought the glitch was done, but then there was a clacking noise as something dropped onto the bed. He looked over and it turned out to be some plastic cases and some makeup brushes.

Of course Anti would make him wear makeup. Jack wasn’t against makeup, but Anti would make it look super obnoxious in line with the whole “whore” thing, and _that_ was something he couldn’t stand for. He wanted to say something snarky about it, but experience said he was better off holding his tongue; no need to make it worse than it already was.

Anti forcefully rolled him over and climbed back on top of him, pressing Jack’s head into the pillow to keep him still. “Don’t you dare move or I’ll carve your eye out,” he growled.

“Yes, sir,” Jack whispered, half out of reflex.

Anti grinned, and it was a wicked, evil smile. “Atta boy. You know your place, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack whispered again.

Anti’s grin damn near split his face in two. “Let’s get started then.” Keeping Jack’s face still with one hand, he began applying foundation with no concern for evenness. He was rough with the eyeshadow and the eyeliner and the mascara, and didn’t care if it looked nice, only that it was applied thickly. It was the same with the blush and the lipstick, and Jack could feel the lipstick smearing on his teeth and it was disgusting.

Anti grinned at him and a handheld mirror glitched into his hand. “Now don’t you look pretty?” he said, forcing Jack to look at himself in the mirror.

The makeup job was utterly hideous; the choices of color were garish, and there were makeup particles in his beard and eyebrows and eyelashes.

“Y-yes sir,” Jack said. He almost wanted to gag at his own reflection.

Anti tossed the mirror somewhere and pushed the makeup off the bed with a sweep of his arm. “Now let’s get the rest of you ready for the show.”

Jack was confused until Anti pulled a bottle of lube from somewhere. Of course he would take it there, why the fuck wouldn’t he?

Anti shifted down the bed a little and forced Jack’s legs as far apart as they would go. “Don’t move or I’ll cut your balls off.”

“Yes sir,” Jack said once more, fisting his hands into the sheets, suddenly aware that Anti hadn’t put him in any underwear.

Anti poured some lube onto his fingers and pushed one finger into his hole, stretching him roughly.

It hurt immediately, with the sting of the stretch and the burn of not quite enough lube, and tears began to well up in Jack’s eyes.

“Crying already?” Anti mocked. “You’re weaker than I thought.”

Jack wanted to spit an insult at him, but then Anti pressed another finger into him with just a little more lube and he whimpered at the pain.

Anti laughed unkindly. “What a fucking baby.” His movements were rough, scissoring his fingers widely, enough to make Jack let out a shout, his legs tense and shaking.

Anti added more lube and a third finger, and Jack sobbed, tears leaking out of his eyes. Anti kept at it, and eventually it stopped hurting, and it was longer still before Anti’s fingers started to spark pleasure. Anti’s finger’s brushed across his prostate and Jack did his best to choke back a moan.

“Fucking finally,” Anti said, scowling. He jabbed purposefully at the spot and watched as Jack’s cock slowly grew hard.

Jack internally cursed himself, wishing his body would get the message from his head and not get aroused. But here he was, laid out on an unknown bed with Anti’s fingers up his ass and doing his damnedest to swallow his moans so Anti wouldn’t get the pleasure of hearing them.

After some time Anti seemed to decide it was enough, and wiped his damp fingers on Jack’s calf, leaving smears on the fabric. He leaned over the side of the bed, and after a moment came back up, and Jack couldn’t quite see what it was that he had grabbed. There was the wet sound of more lube and then something was being pressed into his ass and it went easily. When Anti decided it was in far enough, it suddenly started vibrating, and it was vibrating right up against his prostate, and Jack moaned loudly for a moment before he thought to stifle it, biting his lip.

“Now that’s what I like to hear!” Anti held up what Jack recognized as a spider gag – an open metal ring with four ‘legs’ sticking out and a leather strap attached to the sides – shaking it a little and grinning. “Let’s make sure we can _keep_ hearing that.”

Anti manhandled him into the gag, pressing the ring behind his teeth and fastening the strap behind his head. Anti patted Jack’s cheek over the leather strap. “Now you look like a proper whore.”

Jack realized he couldn’t close his mouth like this, wouldn’t be able to muffle the moans Anti would inevitable drag out of him, and he wouldn’t be able to swallow his spit either; he’d be forced to let it drool over his lips and- fuck that was probably the point, wasn’t it? To make him look debauched and like a fucked-out whore. Fucking fantastic.

Anti hauled Jack upright by the corset, and he suddenly had a length of rough-looking rope in his hand. “I’ll make sure those hands don’t get in the way, and then it’s show time,” he growled. He forced Jack’s hands behind his back and tied his arms such that the length of his forearms were pressed together, hands touching the other elbow, making his back arch forward. The rope was slender but rough, and Jack found that it was tied to firmly to try and escape.

“Let’s go, slut,” Anti said, grabbing his upper arm and dragging Jack off the bed. Jack stumbled immediately, the heels too tall with no ankle support and the vibrator making his knees weak.

Anti laughed cruelly. “You’re so much of a whore you can’t even stand up, can you? Can’t help but go right to your knees where you belong. Now get up, we don’t have all day.”

The glitch dragged Jack through halls he didn’t recognize until they reached a room full of screens and cameras, with a rough wooden table and chair as the focal point. He dragged him towards the chair and forced Jack to his knees next to the chair, on the smooth concrete that served as a floor.

Jack shouted at the pain, and then Anti sat down heavily in the chair, opting to grip a handful of Jack’s hair. Jack watched the multitude of screens and cameras glitch to life, each screen flickering on one by one, revealing the bewildered faces of the other egos: Henrik in his office, Chase and Jameson on a couch, Jackieboy Man on the rooftop of some building, Marvin in a dimly lit room filled with candles.

All at once, their expressions turned to one of shock and horror.

“What the hell are you doing with him, Anti?!” Jackie shouted.

“Thank you for coming to the show,” Anti said, and his voice was saturated with cruel glee. “This fucker,” and here Anti shook the hand gripping Jack’s head, “has gone and fucked _Dark_ when he knows good and damn well he belongs to _me_. So I figured that since he wants to whore himself out so badly, I might as well show him off to everyone while I illustrate that he is mine and mine alone.”

“Let him go, Anti!” Henrik said.

“No,” Anti said, standing up. He undid his jeans, pulling out his mostly hard cock. With his bare feet, Anti nudged Jack into rotating towards him. “So they can have the best view of you sucking my dick,” Anti said. “Now stick your tongue out and suck me.”

Jack complied and watched with trepidation as Anti’s cock drew closer to his face. He had the worst gag reflex, and he could only hope that ‘puking on Anti’s dick’ wasn’t going to be in the itinerary. It smelled gross, like musk and static, and as it slid over his tongue it tasted worse. Even though Anti was being gentle for the moment, Jack could feel his gag reflex threatening to kick in. He could only be grateful that he hadn’t eaten in several hours.

The vibrator was still going in his ass, and it pressed up against his prostate if Jack shifted just right. It could only do so much for him as a distraction, especially as Anti started to really fuck his mouth. The glitch’s cock tasted foul and it didn’t help his gag reflex which only made his throat squeeze around the head of Anti’s dick.

It lasted what seemed like an eternity, with Anti pulling on his hair and the desperate voices of the other egos pleading with Anti to make him stop. It was forcing tears into his eyes and down his cheeks, doubtlessly ruining the makeup even further.

Jack could’ve cried with relief when Anti decided he was done face-fucking him. It was too much to hope that Anti was done entirely though. The glitch bent down and hauled him up to his feet only to bend him over the table, chest to the rough wood. He forced Jack’s head to the side, making him look at the worried faces of the other egos as a reminder that they were being watched.

Anti placed one hand on his ass, pulling the hem of the tight miniskirt up to better expose his hole. “This is where the _real_ show begins,” he said delightedly. He switched off the vibrator and pulled it out of Jack, tossing it to the floor with a dull clatter.

The removal of the vibrator was a quiet relief, but then the head of Anti’s cock pressed against his hole and Jack squeezed his eyes shut to brace himself for the pain.

It hurt, as Anti pressed inwards. There wasn’t nearly enough lube, and Anti was thicker than the vibrator, and he was pressing inwards and inwards, and Jack could only sob, tears blurring his vision.

Anti was groaning and grunting above him, starting to pull back and slowly thrust back in. He gave no time to allow Jack to adjust, and almost immediately set a pace that would allow him to get off with no concern for Jack. He was telling Jack that he was being such a good whore, that he was tight and perfect and how the other egos wished they were in Anti’s place right now.

Anti was gripping his hips too tightly, whispering dirty praise into his ear, and all Jack could do was cry.

“What a bitch, you’re still crying?” Anti growled. “It’s killing the mood.”

Jack could only sob in response.

Jack wasn’t sure how long it lasted. All he could do was stare at Henrik’s terrified face while tears streamed down his own face. His legs were weak, and he could barely keep his feet under him with the heels, Anti’s thrusts rocking him against the rough texture of the table. It went on until eventually Anti’s pace grew increasingly erratic and then Anti was pressing his hips flush against Jack’s ass, and Jack knew instinctively that Anti had cum inside him.

_Gross,_ was all his mind could say as Anti pulled out, thick fluid dripping out onto his thighs.

“You’re soft now, what a shame,” Anti said. “I was hoping you’d cum. Oh well.”

There was the distinctive sensation of a metal blade at his lower back, and for a moment Jack was terrified that Anti was about to paralyze him from the waist down, only for the corset to tug and abruptly loosen, and Jack let out a startled, relieved sob, coughing as his lungs took in more air.

Then Anti was turning him around and hauling him face-up onto the table, and Jack heard himself let out a pathetic whine at the splintered wood digging into his skin.

Anti roughly tugged the corset down and off Jack’s body, and his bound arms forced his shoulders to dig into the rough wood.

Anti’s knife flashed in the light as he twirled it around. “I’m going to carve my name into your skin, and if Dark ever dares to touch you again, he will know that you are mine and mine alone to play with,” he growled.

“You don’t have to do this, Anti!” Chase shouted. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?!”

Then Anti was climbing on top of the table, ignoring the frantic pleas from the egos, and Jack began wriggling in an effort to get away, but his calves were dangling off the table and his arms were useless, and Anti pinned one of Jack’s shoulders to the table.

The knife was so sharp that it didn’t even hurt at first, as the glitch started carving the letter ‘A’ between his pectorals. But then as the blood welled up, it started to sting, and then it started to really hurt, and then Jack was shouting with the pain, writhing as Anti pressed his knife in.

“Stop moving, you’re making me fuck it up!” Anti hissed.

It was over eventually, and Anti sat up to examine his work, the knife slowly dripping blood onto his skin

There was a wide swath of pain from his sternum down to his belly button, and Anti seemed to be satisfied, climbing off the table. A bead of blood rolled down Jack’s side, and it tickled.

“Now the bastard will know whose whore you really are,” Anti said, his voice filled with the sharp bite of anger. He turned away and headed towards an exit. “I’ll make sure to leave the recordings where the stiff cunt can find them,” he called out.

When anti was out of sight, all the cameras and screens turned off, and Jack was quiet for a moment. All was silent except for his light crying. He toed off the high heels and they clattered to the floor. He could see his reflection in the turned off screen; his abdomen was a mess, and the mascara had run streaks down his face from the crying. Anti was right. He _did_ look like a whore.

Jack started crying again, and he couldn’t stop. He cried and it made the torn skin of his abdomen hurt, and he knew that it would be a while before any of the egos would come to get him, and he wept.

He wept for a long time, until he cried himself out, and then he just stared blankly at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, there was the soft crackle of Marvin’s magic, and he jerked his gaze over towards the sound. Henrik and Marvin were across the room and once they spotted him, they were running towards him. Jack was too tired to weep at their arrival, and all he could do was cry silently.

“I’m so sorry Jack,” Marvin said as he reached the table. “I wish we could’ve gotten here sooner.”

“We are here now, Jack,” Henrik said, setting down his box of supplies near Jack’s head as his eyes flitted over Jack’s form. “We will take care of you and then we will take you home.”

Evidently having decided his priorities, Henrik first carefully lifted Jack’s head to undo the spider gag, and then just as carefully set his head down again. “Try not to speak,” Henrik said, gently closing Jack’s mouth with a warm hand on his jaw. “Please rest your voice, Jack. Marvin, help me sit him up so I can untie his arms.”

Henrik and Marvin wrapped careful arms around him, and Jack hissed in pain  as the change in position pulled on his wound.

“Shhh, it’s okay Jack, I’ll get you nice and bandaged up,” Henrik soothed. The ropes soon fell away from his  arms, and Henrik slowly lowered Jack’s hands to his lap while Jack groaned at the strain in his muscles.

“Marvin, will you carry him to the old clinic?” Henrik asked. “I think we would all be much more comfortable in there. I will go ahead and get set up in there.”

“Will do,” Marvin said.

As Henrik rushed off, Marvin carefully pulled the stockings off, dropping them on the floor. There was a zipper on the side of the miniskirt that went the full length of the skirt and Marvin undid the zipper. Then he carefully hooked an arm under Jack’s knees and picked him up, leaving the miniskirt to fall away, encouraging Jack to lay his head on his shoulder as they walked.

When they arrived in the old clinic, Henrik had prepared a bed and set a large towel on the bed, and there all sorts of cloths and creams set out on a side table.

Henrik smiled at them. “We will treat the rope burn and cuts first. Set him down on the bed, Marvin.”

Marvin set Jack down on the bed, carefully settling his body on the sheets, but Jack winced anyway, the skin on his back sore for some reason.

“I will treat the wounds while you remove the makeup,” Henrik said, handing Marvin a package of makeup wipes, as well as a washcloth and some water.

“Of course.” Marvin tore the package open and set to work.

Jack kept his eyes closed while Marvin carefully dabbed at his face. Henrik explained what he was doing as he treated Jack’s wounds. First the cuts were cleaned up and he waited for the wounds to stop bleeding, then disinfected the cuts (which stung like hell), and if any of the cuts needed to be stitched he taped them up. Henrik taped gauze pads over the cuts to protect them and then moved on to the rope burns.

“We are very lucky those cuts weren’t very deep,” Henrik said while he cleaned the rope burns.

“I guess,” Jack rasped.

They were quiet as Henrik applied antibacterial cream to the burns.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you better, Jack,” Henrik said softly.

“One of these days I’m going to give that bastard what he deserves,” Marvin said. “There, that’s all the gross makeup gone.” Marvin dipped the washcloth in the water and very gently rubbed Jack’s face with it. “To get rid of the smell and any stray particles,” he explained.

“You’re doing so good, Jack” Henrik said as he wrapped gauze around Jack’s forearms. “You done, Marvin? I still need to remove the splinters.”

“Yeah, I’m done,” Marvin said, setting aside the bowl and the washcloth. “I’ll help turn him over.”

The two of them carefully turned Jack over onto his stomach. Henrik spent the next forty-five minutes pulling splinters out of Jack’s back and thighs while Marvin carded a hand through Jack’s hair, singing softly.

Henrik also made sure to clean up Jack’s thighs and ass, to remove the dried cum. Jack whimpered the whole time while Marvin tried his best to soothe.

“There, all done,” Henrik said, patting Jack’s hip. “Let’s get you into some clothes, and we will keep watch while you rest.

“Okay,” Jack said.

Henrik frowned at Jack’s apathetic tone but said nothing as he helped Jack sit up. He dressed him in a cloth hospital gown, and then helped Jack get under the covers.

“Please don’t leave,” Jack said, his tone desperate.

“We won’t, I promise,” Henrik said.

Jack didn’t look convinced.

“How about this: we will retrieve the chairs across the room, and then we will hold your hands while you rest, so that you know we are there. Does that sound okay?” Henrik asked.

Jack considered. “Yeah, that sounds ok. I just- I just don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“We understand,” Marvin said gently while Henrik crossed the room. “You were just through something awful; it’s perfectly ok to want comfort.”

Henrik came back with two chairs, setting them on either side of the bed.

“Ok,” Jack said, sounding unsure.

Henrik and Marvin settled into the chairs and took Jack’s hands in theirs.

Marvin snapped his fingers and the lights turned off. “Try and get some rest, Jack. We’ll be here.”

“We will take you home once you’ve gotten some sleep, Jack, okay?” Henrik said.

“Ok.” Jack responded. He closed his eyes, and the sensation of their thumbs rubbing against his hands was soothing.

It still took a long time for Jack to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> jack needs a blanket and some hot cocoa
> 
> also: i have a third one planned that'll be dark/jack/anti and it probably won't be as fucked up as this one
> 
> if you're curious about the series name it's another subtle biblical reference about whores lmao (god calls cities whores a lot in the old testament, just roll with it)


End file.
